The Buyer's Cage
by Risheru
Summary: The antique table lined with gems of many sorts sold for 500 thousand dollars; she, naked in the face and all her body glitters removed, sold for 100. One Benjamin Franklin, cage included. Beauty and the Beast. In the world of human trafficking there is no happy ending. Beauty and the Beast Mature spin-off with elements of human trafficking. Explores the psychology of "love"


**Hello readers! I know I haven't been on in a while, and if you follow my _Of Ash and Flowers_ story, don't worry I'm working on the following chapters. This story is nothing like that story. Well aside from being written by me. But seriously, this is way different, please comment and follow (even if you don't really like it, feedback is appreciated!)**

Prologue: the merchant's story

The antique table lined with gems of many sorts sold for 500 thousand dollars; she, naked in the face and all her body glitters removed, sold for 100. One Benjamin Franklin, cage included.

All of the loot in today's auction was plundered from an unfortunate merchant's run down grocery store off the streets of Maracaibo in Zulia, Venezuela. The city's inhabitants faced famine, inflation, and gang influence, but that was just the daily dealings. With 80% of common folk involved in smuggling business, it's no wonder Venezuela just can't keep their people fed or happy, not to mention their shop owners. Handing out rations just wasn't enough, and when the people of Colombia would gladly pay for the measly rations 10 times out of pocket what any Venezuelan could dream of making in Zulia, the cons were never considered.

Jimenez, a good natured, skin and bone shop owner understood the people's plight, and would give them their rations with a smile. The people called him "boss man," because it showed respect, the earned kind, not the kind that you give when the only other choice is suffering or death. The doors would open early, the lights would go out late, but even he could not inject hope where there was none. So when the Rastrojos came to collect their share, and it was always much more than expected, and much more than could be acquired, Jimenez could only write it off as another IOU.

He still managed to do right by his sole heir. Sent her to Caracas to live with her Aunt and attend school there. He knew it was a beauty factory, but if she could make it, if she could get out, he could live in sweat and grime, but die in peace.

That is until the day she came home for a summer visit, and the Rastrojos came knocking.

"Rescued," they said, "from the debt."

"I'd rather suffocate in the money I owe you, rather than have to watch her suffer." On his knees in the back of the shop, Jimenez made his last stand.

"But you don't have to suffer, neither of you do." Renzo they called him. Prized himself in smuggling not only guns, supplies, and food, but women as well. Little girls, he called them his _flowers. _

"I need to fill my basket, and you want her to make it out of Venezuela. Lucky for you, that's where I deliver my goods: outside the bars of this country. Win, win."

"Please, do what you want with me, let her go to school, let her go, please!"

"That school she goes to, in Caracas, yea I know that place. My brother filled a basket last week with some of those pretty flowers." He kissed the tips of his hands. "Didn't make as much as I thought, but business is still booming, and your little _Fiora?_" His dirty nails grazed the soft skin beneath her chin, "She's the freshest pick, boss. You can guarantee she'll find a home."

Rescued, he called it.

Rather he was plundered, and his life bartered for the only thing he ever valued in his life, his only hope, his rose, Fiora.

"We saved your ass, boss man, you're one lucky bastard. One flower and all those IOU's out the window? I may be getting too soft. Maybe I just like you."

He turned and signaled with his 9mm.

"Fabi, get the…" he looked back at the man now a pile of sobs at his daughter's feet, "carriage, for this pretty little princess."

But she held her head high, "I love you daddy, and I will always love you, okay?"

"That's real sweet, now let's go shall we? Your carriage awaits." He pulled her roughly into his chest and she was encased in the stench of tobacco and Cardenal lager. "Hmmm," he breathed in her scent, matting down her jet-black hair with the grime from his hands, "if only you weren't worth more untouched. And by more, I mean not less."

Before it all, the hope for a brighter future was his livelihood, and his title as well. Now that hope – chained behind a bunch of cargo boxes in a supply van, had left, and what remained of the man was only ruin.


End file.
